


Need

by takenbyst0rm



Series: Mandothon 2020 [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Overstimulation, i feel like that's implicit when it comes to Din but still, mando/hando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbyst0rm/pseuds/takenbyst0rm
Summary: There's no plot here, he lichrally just saw Omera's collarbone and was like uhhhh I think I left the oven on in the Crest ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Series: Mandothon 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689292
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: The Mandalorian Ficathon — April 2020





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation in the Mandothon discord. I realized a lot of Din's sex life is whatever masturbation ritual (or impulse) he has, so here we are. I didn't even edit this, so hopefully it's legible.

Din sat on the edge of the ship’s cot, removing his armor with less than the usual gingerness required to avoid awakening old and new bruises. He cursed under his breath as he fumbled with overlapping straps, yanking and removing only the ones necessary to get at his damned zipper. Tugging one glove off with his teeth while using his other hand to free himself--finally--from his underwear. Half the time the gloves stayed on, and he’d pull himself roughly with deliberate, practiced strokes. 

But not this time. This time he didn’t try to brace himself as he sank onto the stiff pad of a mattress, groaning at the jolt of arousal when his bare hand touched between his legs. The rush of blood made him dizzy, and his breastplate thunked hard against the wall, followed by his helmet as he slumped back. He stared unseeing at the ceiling as he felt the give of his skin turn rapidly solid in his hand. 

He whimpered into the silence of the ship, barely registering his own sound over the thundering pulse in his ears. Knowing faintly how on-edge he felt, he rubbed the flat of his hand over himself and bit his lip as each calloused finger sent pulses of blinding need skittering through him. His other hand scrubbed through the thicket of hair between his thighs, and he arched into himself as his fingers formed a fist at the base of his cock. 

His body felt twelve steps ahead of him, his heart thudding and breath fogging his helmet trying to ease the ache already building up. He almost lost his grip, wincing at the tinge of heat like a livewire touching the head of his cock--already too sensitive. But each insistent stroke he gave himself brought no relief, just shoved him up, up, urgently toward release. 

He couldn’t have made a sound if he tried--his breath caught in a silent gasp as his thighs tensed and spurts shot over his chest and hand. The force of it sent a tear burning down the line of his cheek as he exhaled forcefully, hips twitching upward following the last dribbles of cum. His armor felt pounds heavier, sweat cooling on his brow as he came back to himself. Slowly he stretched out his other hand from its vice grip around the metal frame of the cot. 

Squinting to focus on the time on his HUD he sighed deeply, willing his feet to swing back to the floor. He’d need to leave soon if he was going to be on time getting back to the village.


End file.
